


one near perfect thing

by smartlike



Category: Popslash
Genre: Infidelity - past, Lance Bass/Chris Kirkpatrick - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:52:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5969461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartlike/pseuds/smartlike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Man, of course I know." Joey heaves a long sigh. "Look, you can fight Aaron Carter for the leftover Hilton sister or go home and set up a good ol' down South family for all I care. But you'll still have a thing for JC and you'll still be scared and fucked up. You know, you cheated on him. More than once. So maybe he's fucked up, too, but he's not wrong."</p>
            </blockquote>





	one near perfect thing

**Author's Note:**

> For k8. Thanks to k for an extremely helpful beta and throughadoor for an early read-through. 
> 
> Title and section headers via Belle & Sebastian.
> 
> Originally posted at http://www.obsessivetendencies.net/pmp/belle.html

_in one envelope_

JC sits up and sets his joint down in the ashtray. Carlos looks at him with one eye closed, breathing out smoke and waiting. JC bites his lip before speaking. "Do you think my songs are weird?"

Carlos closes both eyes and JC watches the tiny reddish-orange end of Carlos's joint moving towards his mouth. "What, the one about aliens or the one where you're screaming about sex?" There's nearly nothing left of the joint, the fire practically against his lips, but he tries to inhale anyway.

JC stares at Carlos. He thinks that was a yes, but he's not sure, so he says, "Well, both. All of them."

Carlos doesn't answer and JC stares at his mouth. There's no smoke coming out and JC wonders if he's stopped breathing. That would probably fuck up the night, if Carlos died. JC is imagining the funeral, helping Carlos's mom to her seat, handing her a black lace handkerchief, when Carlos coughs a little. JC blinks and Carlos is looking at him with both eyes open.

"Yes. All of them." Carlos sits up and reaches across the table trading his bit of paper and ash for the joint JC abandoned.

JC nods slowly. "But they're good." He's sure of this. They're good songs, with a vibe that no one will be expecting. Carlos nods as he takes a long pull off the joint. He must be really high, JC thinks. "Weird's okay, I guess." JC takes the joint when Carlos offers it back and stands up. As he leaves the room, he hears Carlos turn on the tv.

JC opens the studio door and sits down on the floor, against the wall. He rummages in the bag he finds there for a notebook and paper. His mini-recorder is in his pocket and he pulls it out. With everything arranged on his lap, he closes his eyes and finishes the joint, dropping the butt in a mug sitting nearby. He maybe falls asleep for a minute, but then his eyes snap open and he opens the pen, turns on the recorder and listens to himself singing. He bobs his head and then rewinds and starts it again, transcribing the lyrics as he hears himself singing them. When he's finished, he scrawls "Some Girls" on the top and underlines it with a flourish.

"Good." He reads the words and maybe they're weird, sure, but he still likes them. There's never been a song about this before and it's so true.

He manages to get to his feet, but it's not easy and he thinks he should probably be careful for the rest of the night. Dragging his hand along beside him on the wall seems to improve his balance and in the room off the living room where Carlos has set up his laptop, JC rummages through the papers on the desk and finds an envelope. He folds the paper and tucks it inside, wrinkles his nose as he licks the seal and closes the envelope. He writes "Lance Bass" on the front and leaves the envelope on Carlos's computer. On his way to bed, through the living room, he stops in front of Carlos.

"Have you seen this?" Carlos gestures to the flickering television where there's a man in flannel making woodcrafts or something. It's kinda low budget, maybe. JC shakes his head no. "'S good."

JC watches the guy hammer a nail for a second and then shrugs. He doubts it's any good at all, but he's not gonna tell Carlos to stop watching it. "I left a letter on your laptop. It needs to be mailed."

Carlos nods and doesn't look away from the screen. Satisfied, JC wanders up to bed.

**

Lance is in Vegas when he gets the letter. Which should be odd, really, because he's only in Vegas for three days, so it doesn't make sense to get mail there. But, Lance doesn't think it's strange anymore, after years of Jive and his mom and Beth all making sure he gets the important mail no matter where he is. There's no return address, but his name is written in JC's handwriting, so he opens it right away, sitting down on the hotel bed to read it.

There's just one piece of paper inside and Lance unfolds it to find a song. The handwriting should probably be illegible, but Lance reads it quickly and rolls his eyes a little. He tosses it on the bed and wonders what the music sounds like. He hums a few short melodies, things JC's left on his cell phone over the last few months, but Lance doesn't think any of them sound right. He picks up the paper and is reading the second verse again when there's a knock on the door.

"Bass, come on," Chris says from the other side, pounding three more times. Loudly.

Lance leaves the letter and opens the door. "I don't care how annoying you are, I'm still not giving you a key. There's no trust there."

Chris sticks his lips out a little, eyes wide with feigned hurt. "No trust? After all these years?"

"All those years is why, man." Lance turns away and picks up his wallet. "Let's go." Lance follows Chris to the elevator and gets in, lifting his feet a little as they start to drop.

"Sorry I didn't make it to the benefit, man. The RV isn't as reliable as it could be."

Lance shrugs. "Whatever. It wasn't that great. We'll have more fun tonight."

Chris nods and starts in on another story from the epic road trip. Lance half-listens, enough so he can make the right noises in the right places, but not enough to pass a quiz if there was one. But Chris talks the whole ride and if he knows Lance isn't paying attention, he doesn't care. Mostly, he thinks about JC's lyrics and wonders when JC wrote the song and if it's going to be on the cd and what, if anything at all, he meant when he sent it to Lance. Probably nothing, Lance decides as they enter the club. It's about girls, after all.

The place is brighter than Lance thinks clubs should be, so he spends most of the night huddled in a booth in the corner watching everyone else dance. A cute redheaded waitress brings him drinks before he needs them and he reminds himself each time to leave a big tip. It's fun, he talks to people when they need a dance break, but no one really interesting comes by.

Mostly he wants to get laid, but he doesn't have the energy to charm someone, so he raises his eyebrows just the right way at Chris. Chris shakes his head and then laughs, but he heads for the door and the car outside and Lance feels like he has to run to catch up. Twenty minutes later, all of Lance's blankets are on the floor and Chris is breathing heavy against his thigh.

"We're definitely not supposed to do this." Chris slides up, his fingers digging slightly uncomfortably into Lance's sides. "I'm sure someone told me that."

Lance nods. "Everyone told you that." He moves his hips, forcing Chris to let go on the right side. Lance twines their fingers together before Chris can regain his hold.

"We got in trouble the last time." Chris lets go of Lance's other side on his own and reaches for the condoms and lube sitting next to the pillow.

"But this time, there's no one to care." Lance thinks that was supposed to sound happier than it did, but Chris laughs again and Lance is about to get fucked, so he stops worrying about anything else.

After, Chris rolls off of Lance and mumbles, "Can I stay?"

Lance isn't going to say no. If he'd had the energy to pick up some trick at the club, he would have had the luxury of kicking him out, but it doesn't work that way with Chris. Lance nods, sitting up and leaning forward to pick up the bedding. He sees a piece of paper flutter to the floor when he shakes out the comforter and smiles a little. Once the blankets are arranged over them and Chris is snoring shallowly, Lance scrabbles for his cell on the nightstand.

Three rings and then JC tells Lance to "say what you have to say at the beep, man". Lance closes his eyes and waits.

"So, at the club tonight there were about nine pairs of girls dancing together. I think a few were probably gay and most of them were avoiding that friend of Ron's that travels with Chris. You know, the weird one with the cheese? But some of them, yeah, they were definitely flirting with the guys. For what it's worth. Night."

Lance hangs up and turns onto his side, humming a little as he falls asleep.

**

_I tell you it was the both of us_

"Right, so then he says something about love and I kinda freaked and said I had yoga lessons." Britney snaps her gum in Lance's ear. "He sent me flowers yesterday, though."

"What kind?" Lance drops his Palm on the table in front of him and gets up off the couch.

"Um, those like, funeral ones?" Britney answers and Lance can imagine her wrinkled nose. "The lilies, I guess. I sent 'em to a hospital."

"Seriously, I get the carefree single girl thing, but. There are people you just don't have sex with." Lance stares into the fridge. He has a shelf full of bottled water, three cartons of leftover Thai food, coffee and a jar of sweet pickles. He doesn't think he likes sweet pickles. He grabs a water and closes the door, tucking the phone between his shoulder and neck while he opens the bottle.

Britney talks and Lance isn't quite listening to the words, just the sharp sweet tones in his ear and he's trying to decide if she's really as happy as she sounds. She's talking about tattoos when he interrupts. "Are you really over him?"

There's a pause before Britney replies, laughing a little. "Fred?" But Lance knows that she knows he means Justin, so Lance just waits. There's a longer pause and no laughter this time. "Yeah. Really."

Lance nods and sips his water. "Good." He frowns and tastes a hint of buttered popcorn and sugar.

"What about you? Are you--"

"Hey, I need to go, okay?" Lance's chest is uncomfortably tight and he looks down at his t-shirt like it might be the reason. It's not, but there are things that Lance has made a careful habit of not thinking about. And he probably should go-- he needs to call Wendy about some appearance this weekend.

"Lance, you should really just talk about it." Britney waits through Lance's silence and finally sighs. "It's not like there was a reason, right?"

"You mean I didn't fuck his best friend?" Lance can picture Britney's slightly shocked face. He probably didn't mean to say that.

"No. No you didn't. Not this time." Britney's voice is soft, but Lance knows that was supposed to hurt. It does, but he did start it, so he can't blame her. "But what I meant was, you sounded happy. I mean, you thought you were really back together this time, I think."

"Yeah, well, we weren't. And if I thought so, it was just stupid. It can't happen." Lance breathes in as deep as he can, but it's still not enough. "We don't work, we decided together and I'm fine." Lance exhales. "I'm not the one being stalked by a dirty rock star."

Britney laughs. "Well, at least you have that."

She pauses, but Lance knows she understands, so he just pushes the conversation forward. "He really has a tattoo of Elvis?"

"And Kurt Cobain. Together."

"Ugh." Lance finishes the water in one long swallow and lets Britney finish her story before advising her to get a restraining order and hanging up.

**

JC isn't sure what he wants on the cover. He stares at the three pictures in front of him-- there's what looks like a smear of dirt on his face in one. He sits back in his chair. "I think I need to rerecord all the ballads."

Amy is this month's Jive representative. She's cute, with curly blond hair scraping her shoulders. She blinks twice and nods. "Oh." She makes a note on her pad and JC wonders what it says, but he can't see that far.

"And I don't like any of the pictures."

Amy writes more and then looks up at JC. "Okay, sure, JC. Let's set up another photo shoot, okay? It's always good to have promo options."

JC likes how cheerful she sounds. It's really nice to have positive people around during the recording process. He lets Carlos and Amy figure out the date and time for the shoot. He's listening to "Build My World" in his head, over and over and he can't figure out what's wrong with the vocals, but he knows there's something. He stands up. "I'm going to the studio."

The studio is in the same building, three doors down and it's empty now. JC cues up the song and starts playback, tapping his hand on the edge of the soundboard and catching flashes of his reflection in the glass of the recording booth. The door clicks when Carlos comes in.

"What's wrong with it?"

JC shrugs. "I can't decide. It's off somewhere." He listens to a few more bars and turns around. "Maybe I hate ballads now."

Carlos kicks his chair. "You gotta have ballads."

JC rolls his eyes. "What happened to 'If you do a solo album, you'll have complete creative control and it'll be exactly what you want'?" Carlos scoffs and JC flips him off. "You suck."

"You gotta have ballads." Carlos opens the door again. "You want a latte or what?"

"Americano. Double." He turns back to the board. "And creative control."

"You have control. Of the ballads. And I never said that, anyway." Carlos leaves with another smooth click and JC turns the volume up louder.

Carlos didn't say that. Carlos knows that there's only so much creative control. He's a pretty good manager, but he couldn't convince JC to do a solo album. Neither could Dallas or Justin or anyone from Jive. No, Lance did the convincing.

JC starts pressing buttons and playing with dials, but he knows he's not gonna fix it without rerecording, so he's only half listening to the sounds he's making.

They were in a hotel suite in Texas when Lance convinced JC to take Jive up on the offer of a record. Which is weird, because JC can't think of one other important thing that ever happened in Texas. But, there was champagne and just one free day and Lance laughed and tossed a jelly bean towards JC's open mouth. He missed, of course, but JC listened to Lance's speech and picked the jelly bean up off his leg and popped it in his mouth.

"You should do it," Lance said. "If you do a solo album, you'll have complete creative control and it'll be exactly what you want. You won't have to write any bass parts at all, man." 

JC chewed on the candy, burned sugar that he guessed was supposed to taste like popcorn. He's not sure, now, if he really believed Lance at all, but it sounded good. And when Lance tossed JC's glass aside and leaned forward to kiss JC, bubbly and sweet, it went straight to JC's head and so, JC decided just to go ahead and do it.

The song sounds hollow, JC thinks as he slides a lever up and then part-way back down. He's not sure why he thought it was a good take. His voice sounds strained and there's maybe even an off-note in the second verse. Which, JC thinks, is probably a big metaphor for the entire process.

Because in Texas he decided to do the album because it seemed like a good idea at the time, with champagne and sugar in the back of his throat and Lance pressed sticky-warm against his back. But then Lance was gone and JC remembered how everything about Lance seemed like a good idea at the time.

When he got back from Russia for good, there was a party and JC went with a bottle of champagne and jeans that made his ass look perfect. There were a lot of people there, though and a guy with reddish-brown hair had his hand wrapped around Lance's shoulder. The guy left before JC, but he had a million lyrics in his head and he didn't want to make an album full of cheating songs, so JC gave the champagne to Joey and went home with a model he found lounging on one of Lance's couches.

The next day, JC had lunch with Lance and Carlos called it breaking up, but really they weren't together. Besides, breaking up was what they did. JC tries to think back and he decides that there's never been a time when he and Lance were together as long as they were apart. So, it was less like breaking and more like returning to the natural state of things. This time, at least if anyone asked, they could say it was a "mutual decision", ending it before the screaming and of course, that was the best for everyone. They were doing different things and really, Lance didn't look like JC had kicked his puppy when JC said he needed to focus on his album. No, Lance was just jet-lagged. That was in Florida and JC thinks it was just another in a string of stupid things that happened there.

He stands up and shakes his head at Carlos when he comes back in. "Fine, I have control of the ballads and I say they need to be rerecorded. Tell Amy." He downs the coffee quickly and is glad Carlos always forgets the sugar.

**

_no more than a genius deserves_

Lance likes calendars. He has one in all the important rooms of his houses, a day planner bound in leather, a Palm and one of those little cards with Joey's face on it in his wallet. He writes down events and appearances and crosses them off when they're over. He makes to-do lists and enjoys a moment of accomplishment every time he strikes a line through another item. Mostly though, he spends a lot of time counting days. 

507 days since they started their hiatus, 222 since he didn't go back to Russia. 177 since he spent the day with JC in Texas, 176 since he broke up with Freddy. 602 days ago he broke up with JC and three days after that he started dating Freddy. Or, maybe that one was the other way around. It's a chicken and egg sort of dilemma, probably. But the 883 since he slept with Chris the first time and the 874 since JC broke up with him, he's sure he knows which of those came first.

Lance doesn't actually write these events on any of his calendars. He likes to think that he's not so crazy that he'd want to see "got dumped again" or "broke jc's heart" staring back at him if he ever flipped back to that page on the calendar. He doesn't need to write them down because his brain has trapped all the dates and all the numbers of dates since and even if he tried, he doesn't think he could shake them out. But, carrying them around, it's like a reminder or maybe a little like a punishment. Sometimes, Lance thinks that all he wants is for something, anything, to work out. He'd like a beginning that isn't followed x number of days later by a point where he does something wrong. Lance shakes his head and reminds himself that there are good things, too. 201 since he officially became a cosmonaut, for example. But his brain has a harder time holding on to those, he guesses.

What Lance does write on the calendars are his appointments and now his Palm and the calendar hanging on the fridge is telling him he has a date with some model Wendy says he's met before, but Lance doesn't remember. She says he's cute, though. So Lance dresses in a nice shirt- striped, with the first three buttons undone- and picks out a pair of shoes that he's only worn once and are so polished he could use the surface as a mirror. Instead he goes to the bathroom where he watches his reflection apply product to his hair. There's not much left in the little jar, so on his way out of the house, Lance adds "buy hair product" to his to do list.

Lance slides into his car and drives toward a restaurant he's never tried before. Wendy said to try the pumpkin soup, that it's absolutely perfect, but Lance isn't sure. He thinks it's too warm for soup. The place has valet and Lance hands over the keys and sweeps his eyes over the tables inside, everything blurry as his eyes adjust to the darkness. A guy in the corner, tilts his head up, smiling, and lifts his hand in a small wave. He's cute and Lance smiles back even though he's not sure he wants to be there at all, let alone there and smiling.

First times always have the potential to be that something that doesn't get messed up and Lance thinks of energy, potential and kinetic, all stored up and just waiting to rush forward. He hovers at the hostess stand before heading over, holding onto the potential and willing it to work out this time. Then a deep breath and forward, smiling and noting the date as "met Jessie". He thinks it'd be nice if that still means something later, but he has a hard time convincing himself it will.

**

"Oh, man, you should definitely do the club thing." Justin's voice is loud in JC's ear and he wonders if there's a way to adjust the volume. But, he thinks somehow Justin would know and just talk louder, so he doesn't check. "The energy. It's like being in those tiny venues in Germany, but without that sour cabbage smell."

JC laughs. "Man, sometimes I think Lou had that smell piped in so that we wouldn't enjoy anything too much."

"Fucker." Justin's voice fades out for a second and then back in. "Sorry, we're in the middle of nowhere. But, anyway, you're thinking club tour?"

JC nods and pulls into his driveway. He turns off the car and just sits there. "Yeah. Before the album, too, like with _Celebrity_. I'm working on it."

"Very cool. You'll love it." Justin's watching TV, JC thinks, listening to the rise and fall of voices behind him. It sounds like a lot of people and even Justin doesn't have that many on his bus. "Dude, Joey's getting fucking married."

"I know." Now that he's not driving, JC's talking with his hands even though there's no one there to see him. "Crazy."

"Somehow that's weirder than him having a kid, you know?"

JC agrees and listens to Justin talk about the last time he saw Briahna and she smeared creamed carrots in his hair. JC doesn't even pretend to be sympathetic, just laughs until his eyes are wet. "Dude," he gasps.

"Oh, fuck off." But Justin isn't annoyed. "And fucking Lance and his boyfriend were there and she didn't touch either of them in their designer shirts. Just went straight for my head like it had a fucking target on it."

JC bites his lip, inhaling too quickly and almost choking. "Lance was there?"

There's a pause. "Yeah. I think you were in Orlando or, um. Yeah."

JC considers not asking. He could be disinterested and healthy and not put Justin in a position JC knows he'd rather not be in. But then, Lance is his friend and it wouldn't be healthy not to care about his life. That's what JC tells himself as he wrinkles his brow and asks, "He has a new boyfriend?"

Justin doesn't sigh or raise his voice and JC appreciates it. Of course, it's possible that Justin just can't work up the interest anymore. "Yeah. Some model. Wendy knows him, I guess." JC nods. "Jessie something or other. Or maybe Jesse without the "i", that's more of a guy's name, right?"

JC can't hear any difference in Justin's voice when he says the name without the "i". He frowns. "Dark hair? Not too tall?"

"Yeah. He was cute, I guess." There's a pause and JC hears Trace laughing in the background. "You know him?"

JC thinks he might, but he doesn't feel like getting into it. "Well, good for Lance," is all he says and he doesn't mean a word of it, which JC thinks is neither healthy nor disinterested. "I'm home, dude. Gotta look over these road manager resumes, so I'm out."

"Okay, sure." Justin coughs. "I'm sorry about--" He stops abruptly and JC opens his car door. "Never mind. Dude, just remember what I said about the club thing."

JC promises he will and hangs up. He sits in the car with the door open and one foot on the pavement until Carlos comes out looking for him.

**

_why we bother at all_

Awards shows are exhausting and JC almost refuses to go. Jive is pushing back the release date and messing with the promo. Carlos suggests that if JC had maybe been more cooperative earlier in the process than this wouldn't have happened. JC thinks that he gave them the damn ballads and didn't mind waiting to put the album out after Brit's promo blitz. Also, JC's not even sure Carlos really knows what he's talking about. JC's the only person he's ever managed, after all. JC wonders if he should have just hired Johnny again. But, he didn't, he hired Carlos and when he hands JC a joint in the limo on the way to the show, he remembers why.

By the time he gets there, he's not so tense and almost excited to talk about the album. It's good, probably the best stuff JC's ever written and he did have a lot of creative control. He meets briefly with Lisa, the new Jive rep, before walking the red carpet and he's grinning and making fun of the ugly dresses in his head when he sees blond hair up ahead and stops short. The person behind him coughs and taps lightly on his shoulder and JC shakes his head, mutters an apology and walks forward to stand next to Lance.

"Hey."

"C, man, how are you?" Lance is talking faster than usual and his cheeks are stained red. "I'm doing this red carpet thing, you know?"

JC nods. He can't remember if he knew or not, but he figures he shouldn't say that. "That's cool." He breathes in deeply, licks his lips trying to collect the faint taste of pot that lingers there and the relaxation that came with it.

"You're presenting?" Lance's eyes are wide and JC looks up at the camera, but it's not on yet.

"Yeah. Intro-ing that Hilary Duff chick." JC shifts and looks around for Carlos or Lisa, but they've both gone in the back entrance.

"--heard about it, probably." Lance is ending a sentence and JC missed most of it. Lance raises his eyebrows and JC nods before looking over his shoulder. Lance follows the look and grins. "Lonnie. Dude, what is up?"

JC watches Lance step forward and disappear into a quick hug. His shirt is new, nice cut. And JC thinks he's changed his hair color again. JC wrinkles his nose a little. He doesn't think he likes it.

"Oh, man, I heard the single." Lance leans in closer and JC can smell something that makes him think of crisp cotton and heavy brocade comforters. "It's great." JC starts to thank him, but Lance keeps talking. "Those are the lyrics you sent, right? I couldn't figure out what it sounded like, but yeah. Great."

JC smiles and it feels real in a way that surprises him. "You really liked it? That's great. I'm happy with it. And you got the tape of the video that I sent?"

Lance nods, head bobbing up and down quickly. "Hot. Totally, hot. The chick with th--" Lance stops and turns at the producers signal, nodding. "Interview, man. Ready?"

JC smiles. He is. Lance starts with some joke about nsync and then he gets the single release date wrong, but JC doesn't mind and he thinks maybe they can hook up after. Not, like _that_ , but just get a drink, go to some parties, whatever. They are friends, after all. He thinks mutual decision, so he sort of misses Lance's question and pauses before giving the right answer. Lance rolls his eyes, careful to look away from the cameras and then it's over.

"You're good at that, dawg." JC reaches out and taps Lance's shoulder for no reason. The fabric feels expensive. Lance steps away, but he's looking behind JC for his next interview, so JC doesn't think he's avoiding the touch. "You gonna make a new career out of it?"

Lance smiles, broad and maybe not like his normal smile. "Yeah, I figure if I just keep trying, I'll find the right job."

JC stares and the sun behind Lance hurts his eyes. He's not sure if that meant anything. Lance has always been just one step out of JC's grasp and JC thinks he was stupid to think a little time would change that.

"C, I've gotta do this." Lance shakes his head towards Beyonce approaching from the left. "You partying after?"

JC nods, smiles at Beyonce and she quirks her lip a little and adjusts her diamond necklace. "Yeah, yeah. Where you planning on going? We could meet up."

Lance shrugs. "Not sure yet. Give me a call at the end of the show and we'll figure it out."

JC's trying to say yes as Lonnie nudges him forward and he walks backwards four steps, watching Lance and Beyonce hug and laugh. When he turns around, he blinks and steps into the shade of the building. He really wishes he hadn't come and wonders if Carlos has an extra joint.

**

Lance had four martinis in about two hours at the first party and this one is seeming kind of dull in comparison. Dull and with more tilting of the floors, but he thinks that might not be real. Still, he leans against Jessie to keep his balance, bending at the waist a little to talk to Jessica and Nick. Jessica snorts loudly and Nick disappears to get another beer. Lance looks around the room, but doesn't see anyone else he knows. Or, no one he knows to talk to, which makes him think about how much time he spends in rooms where he knows absolutely everyone and still has no one to have a real conversation with. He turns and pats his pocket, but his cell phone is still there and it still hasn't rung.

"Are you okay?"

Lance nods at Jessica and gestures to his chest. "What do you think of this shirt?"

Jessica purses her lips and tilts her head, studying it before nodding. "Nice cut."

Lance nods and starts to say something else, but someone shouts "Jess!" and Jessica leaves with a quick apology. He stands up straighter and watches her leave.

"That was interesting." Jessie's voice is quiet, but not far from Lance's ear, so he hears him.

"Do you think she's more famous than me?"

Jessie coughs. "Um. You you or you-in-nsync you?"

"Does it matter?" Lance knows the answer to that question and he thinks it's maybe mean to make someone answer it. After a second he waves his hand in the air and reaches for Jessie's drink. "Never mind. I know."

"Hey, I didn't get to meet JC." Jessie tips his head to the side and looks around the room. Lance can't tell if Jessie wanted to meet JC because he's Lance's friend or because he's JC. It's the same kind of question, really and it makes Lance wonder exactly how much more famous JC is than Lance.

"He was good tonight."

Jessie shrugs. "For presenting, sure." He watches Lance drink and giggles. "Hillary Duff, man. I can't decide if she's evil or adorable."

"It's hard to tell sometimes." Lance swallows, grimacing a little at the sweetness of the drink. "But, I mean, he looked good and you know, for pre-release promo. It's good exposure."

Jessie blinks. "Uh-huh. I guess. You're the one who knows that stuff." He glances around the room. "Did you see Britney's dress? What was that?"

Lance has spent a lot of time not noticing Britney's fashion choices. The same way he manages not to notice the way Justin snaps at Joey sometimes for no reason or how often Joey disappears with a girl who's decidedly not Kelly. He thinks that's what you do for your friends-- not notice certain things. So he doesn't answer Jessie, just shrugs again, finishes the drink and thinks about how he also never notices the way JC stares at the spot just above Lance's collarbone when JC thinks no one's looking.

Jessie takes the glass away and sets it on a nearby table. "Let's leave, huh? Before you get all melancholy and shit."

Lance narrows his eyes. He didn't think models knew words like melancholy. He pats his cell phone again and considers, looking around the party. "I thought you wanted to meet JC."

Jessie frowns. "Is he gonna show up?"

Lance shifts his weight from foot to foot and reaches up to rest his hand at the base of his neck. "No, no I guess not."

They leave, out the front entrance and no one notices because Chris Martin is just arriving. Lance blinks as the flashbulbs pop and closes his eyes, letting Jessie lead him to limo.

**

_wanted to look down_

Lance thinks maybe he's being stupid. He dumped some model boy toy. It's not like he made a major life decision. He could have someone else, maybe someone prettier, in less than twelve hours if he wanted. Hell, he could figure out where Chris is and fly out for a no strings fuck or four and then go home and not have sex for a month. It all sounds like the same thing, anyway. So he's not sure why he's sitting in his house in some depressive funk. Generally, Lance doesn't get depressed. But, he's been sitting in his robe and eating leftover Chinese for a couple days now and he thinks that's what depression looks like. He knows he looks bad, at least, because when Joey shows up at the door a few hours later, he looks a little disgusted.

"Dude, what the fuck? Have you showered this week?" Joey wrinkles his nose and flops down on Lance's couch. "Are you sick?"

"I'm depressed."

Joey scoffs. "You're what?" Lance just glares. "Okay, I'll take the bait. Why are you depressed?"

"I broke up with Jessie." Now it's Joey's turn to glare. Or, more stare, but still. Lance squirms a little. "And my life has no direction?"

Joey sits up. "You're kidding, right?" Lance pulls at the tie of his bathrobe. "Seriously what does that mean? You're fucking famous."

"I'm less famous than Jessica and Nick." Before Joey can say anything, Lance continues, "And so are you."

Joey rolls his eyes. "You're not. And I'm definitely not. I mean, okay, maybe right this minute you are, but--" Joey stops and tips his head back on the couch. "Is this about JC?"

Lance blinks twice and then stands up. He sits down again, though, because he doesn't have anywhere to go. "What?"

"C. JC Chasez. Your ex-whatever, soulmate-in-bad-fabrics, bandmate and solo sensation? I'm pretty sure you know him."

"I haven't seen him since his release party." It was a good party, Lance remembers. He brought Jessie and he was excited to meet JC. JC had seemed less excited to meet him, though. "How is he?"

"Fucked up." Joey lifts his head and shakes it. "Like always. You're both fucking fucked up. God."

Lance doesn't think he wants to hear this. Whatever it is, it's probably nothing Joey should be noticing. "We haven't been--- Since Russia."

"You've been fucked up since before Russia. During Russia and after, too." Lance opens his mouth to protest, but Joey waves him off. "You're not depressed over Jessie or being less famous than Jessica or any other excuse you can come up with. You're not really depressed, you're just scared to go talk to him, so you're pretending."

Lance scrapes at a hangnail studiously before answering. When the skin is a bright red, he looks up again. "Aren't you supposed to care about my feelings?"

Joey rolls his eyes. "I do. When they're real. And if you're not gonna do anything about JC, then you can just keep dating little whatevers and fucking Chris in between until he gets his head out of his ass and puts an end to that and then--"

Lance blinks. "But. Wait--" He didn't know Joey knew that Lance and Chris were still hooking up. Lance didn't think anyone knew. He hopes JC doesn't know.

"Man, of course I know." Joey heaves a long sigh. "Look, you can fight Aaron Carter for the leftover Hilton sister or go home and set up a good ol' down South family for all I care. But you'll still have a thing for JC and you'll still be scared and fucked up. You know, you cheated on him. More than once. So maybe he's fucked up, too, but he's not wrong."

Lance rubs his hand through his hair and it comes away feeling slick and sticky. He should really take a shower. He stands up again. "I'm gonna shower."

Joey nods. "Right." He looks around the room. "Do you have _Radio_ on dvd yet?"

Lance nods and points to the cabinet beside the tv. He walks up the stairs slowly and hears the sounds of the movie starting behind him. It wasn't a very good movie, but Lance thinks Joey will like it. In the shower, he lets the water run cold and thinks about calling Chris. He's in Texas still and Lance remembers the last time he was there and shivers. He probably won't call Chris and he's probably not depressed. Lance is kind of disappointed, because that would definitely be easier. Either way, he definitely thinks Joey was rude. Lance turns up the hot water and shampoos his hair a second time and tries to figure out what the hell he has to be scared of.

**

JC's big promo blitz is mostly wrapped up, just a few radio interviews here and there, so he can actually go home for a few days. He almost has Carlos book the flight to Orlando, but at the last minute decides on LA and when he gets home and drops his suitcase in the foyer, he thinks he made the right decision. He has five days to rest before he joins Britney as the opener for the second half of her tour. He's not sure how he feels about that decision, but Jenny from Jive's eyes sparkled a lot when JC mentioned that Brit had asked, so why not? This way JC didn't have to deal with as many expenses and that was always good.

JC looks at the stack of mail Carlos hands him and frowns, "Why didn't I get this in New York?"

Carlos shrugs. "The post office doesn't follow your appearance schedule, man."

JC flips through the mail. He tosses aside some bills and catalogues, a letter from his aunt Grace and two issues of _Adbusters_ which he knows he never subscribed to and opens an orange envelope with Chris's name and a return address from Miami.

JC hesitates before pulling the card out of the envelope. He sighs and does it all in one quick motion and cuts himself with the edge of the thick paper. "Fuck, ow." He sticks the side of his finger in his mouth and bites down a little, turning the card over at the same time.

It's just a generic Hallmark card with a black and white picture on the front and JC doesn't bother to read the pre-printed text inside. Instead he reads what Chris has scrawled in the white space. 

_They don't make 'congrats on your successful solo album' cards, man. So, this'll have to do. At least I got you something, right? Sorry I couldn't make the launch, Lance says it was killer._

Chris doesn't sign cards, so that's all there is and JC's mouth twitches between a frown and a smile. He hasn't talked to Chris in awhile and JC tries to tell himself it's not because Chris still fucks Lance and JC doesn't, but the way his lips finally settle into a scowl says different. JC sighs and drops the card to the table, reaching for his cell phone to give Chris a call.

Before he can dial, though, the doorbell rings.

"Can you get that?" Carlos shouts from down the hall.

JC shrugs and slips his phone back into his pocket, heading back the seven steps to the door. He opens it with enough force to propel himself back a little and Lance quirks an eyebrow as JC stumbles.

"You okay?"

JC nods, stares, blinks and nods again.

"Okay. I'll take your word for it." Lance laughs, shallow and it fades out quickly. JC stares into the sun behind Lance and remembers that you're not supposed to look straight at it. "Hey."

"Hey," JC says, blinking and looking at Lance through a thin haze that feels imprinted on his eyeballs. "What's up?"

"I was just talking to Joey and he said you were in town and maybe I should come say hi." Lance pulls at the hem of his shirt. "Since everyone else is in Florida."

"Justin's actually in like, Toronto or something." JC knew when he decided to come to LA that no one was here but Lance. It hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time. It's not as though JC doesn't have plenty of friends here. But now it feels like he made a decision without telling himself. "Cameron's on a movie or something." JC shrugs and wishes that this didn't feel so normal.

"Oh. Okay, I think I knew that." Lance tilts his head to the side and shifts his weight a little. 

His shoes sink into the thick doormat and reflect sunlight up at JC. He shifts his weight again and JC knows it's the international signal for 'can I come in?', but JC doesn't move, just thinks of vampires. "So," he says. "I've got a few days off."

Lance nods. "I heard. And then Britney-- that's cool." Lance turns, looks up at the sun. JC just watches Lance, stares at a spot near the base of his neck that always tastes like spices. Lance turns quickly back and JC looks up, sees Lance smile to himself. "What's so fascinating about my neck?" JC blinks. "You're always staring."

JC shrugs and steps back, almost closes the door, but that would be crazy, so he just stands, arms at his side, fingers twisting at air. "I-- Nothing. The sun was just--" But JC stops. "I got a card from Chris."

Lance bites his lip, but he doesn't look away. JC thinks that's new. "Yeah?" JC nods, waiting for something to happen. "We're not," Lance waves his hands in the air. "And I broke up with Jessie."

JC keeps his face carefully blank. "I'm sorry."

Lance laughs. "You're not." He watches JC's face. "You shouldn't be." He moves his head and takes a deep breath. From the angle JC's watching, it looks like Lance is inhaling sunlight. "I don't want you to be. I don't want to be." Another pause and then, "We're always sorry, man."

JC thinks about that. About all the times before and he feels suddenly exhausted in a way that even days of constant interviews couldn't make him. "Okay, let's not then." Inside, Carlos turns on the stereo and sings along to something light and bouncy. "Carlos," he explains to Lance and JC didn't have to say that and he thinks he just made another one of those decisions he doesn't tell himself about.

Lance nods. He steps backwards on the step and reaches into his pocket. "Right. I just wanted. I guess, never mind." And he's starting to turn around, to walk back to the car parked a few feet away, light bending against the hood.

JC has two impulses. He wants to pull Lance back, inside and upstairs and against sheets that no one has slept on in a month. He wants to watch Lance get into his car and then close the door and maybe sit and sleep right there on the stone floor of the foyer. Carlos probably won't let him do that, though. He'll say it's bad for JC's back.

"You could stop doing things we have to be sorry about," he says and he doesn't know which impulse that belongs to. He thinks that's up to Lance, now and then 'mutual decision'.

Lance stops and he was walking backwards, so his back foot is hovering off the ground behind him and he slowly drops it, toe pressing down first, heel up and JC feels like he's rewinding a movie. Lance nods. "Yeah." Now heel down and he slides his whole foot forward, next to the other one. "I could try."

**

_on second thoughts_

JC's in New York, he's said goodbye to Britney and Carlos is staying here for another week to visit some friends. JC has Melissa from Jive on the phone and she's giving him numbers and dates and JC's not planning on remembering any of them.

"Okay," he says. "I have to go, my plane's boarding." He doesn't wait for the one more thing he's sure she's trying to say, just clicks off the phone and turns around to nod to Lonnie and bends to pick up his bag. When he stands up, he smiles at Lance in front of him.

"You shouldn't hang up on her." Lance adjusts the strap of his laptop bag and starts walking backwards toward the gate. "It makes them think you're difficult."

"I am difficult," JC answers, laughing and pulling out his boarding pass. Lance laughs, but doesn't disagree. "People have said it's part of my charm."

"What people?" Lance smiles at the flight attendant and waits for JC before heading into the little tunnel to the plane.

"Chris?" JC can't remember anyone ever saying it, but he may as well defend the point once he's made it.

"'Cause that sounds exactly like something Chris would say." Lance rolls his eyes and JC notices that nothing happens when Lance talks about Chris. 

JC follows Lance onto the plane and presses his hand into the small of Lance's back. "It should, because I'm sure he did."

"Okay, fine. It's part of your charm." Lance waits for JC to settle into the window seat, hands him a blanket from the overhead and sits next to him. "Is there anything I can get for you?" His tone is sarcastic and his mouth is curled into an indulgent smile.

JC considers making him do something, just to keep the joke going, but there's nothing he wants except maybe a nap, so he shakes his head and unfolds the blanket over himself. "Just sit here."

Lance nods and JC curls up against him and closes his eyes.

**

The flight is longer than Lance remembers and he knows JC will sleep the whole way. Lance sits quietly and stares at the movie screen, but never bothers to listen. He sips a Jack and ginger ale and feels the weight of JC's head against Lance's arm.

The movie's something starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan and there's a dog and a lot of shots of their computer screens. Lance likes Tom Hanks, but the fifth time he sees the "you've got mail!" shot he wonders if it isn't just one long AOL ad. Lance frowns and remembers that nsync did a few AOL ads. Still, it wasn't two hours worth. He smiles at the stewardess as she walks by and she giggles, nodding at JC. Lance turns to look at JC, his head tucked against Lance and a very visible bit of drool running over his lower lip. Lance snorts and shakes his head. He still thinks JC looks good, though.

After a minute, Lance looks away from JC and back to the movie. Meg Ryan seems frustrated and Lance wrinkles his nose in some sort of sympathy. He finishes his drink and nudges JC's thigh with his knee. JC makes a small sound in the back of his throat, but he doesn't even move. Lance shouldn't wake him up, anyway. He moves his leg again and feels his cell phone digging into his thigh, so he pulls it out and sends Chris a text message. " _JC drools in his sleep._ " 

It's only a few seconds before there's a reply. " _So do you, ass_." Lance laughs and tucks his phone back into his pocket before anyone on the flight crew can give him a disapproving look.

Lance's watch tells him that there's one hour and seventeen minutes left of the flight, so he asks for another drink and picks up the _SkyMall_. Leafing through he finds a few things he'd actually consider buying. He's turning down the corner of a page full of alarm clocks sonically and psychologically designed to improve your morning, when JC shifts next to him.

"You're not seriously gonna buy that?" JC's voice is thick and low, and Lance can imagine the dry feeling in his mouth and throat.

He looks over at JC and there's a tiny bit of white dust on the corner of his mouth and one side of his hair is pressed flat against his head. Lance shrugs. "Maybe. It's specially designed to play a soothing wake-up song. Different ones based on like, times and moods and stuff."

JC's eyes narrow. "The clock can tell your mood?"

Lance looks down at the page in front of him and presses his leg flush against JC's. "Why are you even awake?" He turns the corner of the page back up.

JC laughs, quiet and kind of high pitched. "I'm not." There's a pause. "I just wanted to see if you were still here."

Lance thinks about what Joey said and being scared and standing on JC's front steps with sun beating down on his head. It's been sixty-four days since that day and tomorrow he'll have gone two days longer than ever before without marking "broke up with JC" on his mental calendar. 

"We're on a plane, C. I don't have a lot of places to go." But that's not the point, so Lance lifts his head to look over at JC. "No where else, actually." And Lance means it.


End file.
